


flirting with danger; playing with fire.

by anxiouspunk



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: F/F, First work in fandom, Lorelai is only in here for like a minute, and I love her dearly but god she is hard to write, featuring adorable dorks who don't know how to address their feelings for eachother, new here!, rated t for swear words I guess, season 1 era I suppose, takes place during the chilton years, title stolen from forever the sickest kids' 'playing with fire'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 01:59:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13824084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anxiouspunk/pseuds/anxiouspunk
Summary: Rory Gilmore was sure she had to hate Paris Geller. After all, she was the jerk who was making her time at school so miserable for no good reason at all.So why did she have a valentine in her hand with Paris's name on it?Well, that was an excellent question she had no answer for.





	flirting with danger; playing with fire.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first fic for the fandom, so before we start, I'd like to get some stuff out of the way, 
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I want everyone to know that I actually haven't finished the show and have only gone up to season 2 (though now I've stopped that to try to finish my rampage through Buffy, and have promptly forgotten quite a bit). So, while I've tried my hardest, if this seems OOC at all to you, that might be why. But I love these two and their dynamic so much (basically I'm a sucker for otps where the jerky one is especially mean to the overtly nice one because they can't admit how hard they're crushing, which honestly, is exactly what these two are). I've also garnered a bit more about the show/characters since it's old and popular enough that it's next to impossible to avoid spoilers, which has helped to kinda get a slightly better insight. 
> 
> Anyways, enjoy whatever this is!

Rory thinks she must’ve lost her mind. 

 

What was she doing? This was insane. It would’ve been one thing to give a Valentine, which she low-key found kind of cheesy, and was usually, as someone of her gender,  more  the recipient then the giver. 

 

It would be a whole other to be giving it to a  _girl_ , when previously, Rory  really  had no interes t  for and had taken the normal  ( and non-frowned upon )  path of liking males  only . 

 

And then, it was an  _entire, massive_ other point of that supposed female being Paris Geller; the girl who’ s been holding a metaphorical knife to Rory’s throat before she could even step past Chilton’s doors. The girl Rory couldn’t stand, who was needlessly cruel when Rory had done  _nothing_ , far too rude to be tolerated and with a superiority complex so high it was skyrocketing – god she was awful. 

 

Though somehow, here she was, with a used book of poetry in her hand  destined to be given to her . It hadn’t cost much, just something small, and she’d gone in and high-lighted the passages that reminded her of the blonde. 

 

Because she also happened to be the girl who was unbelievably smart in a way Rory had never seen and couldn’t help but be pulled to, sharp deep brown eyes in that deadly gaze that was intriguing in how terrifying it was, the complete  e ni g ma Paris was that had Rory itching to find out what the hell she was keeping under so many walls. 

 

Paris Geller made her head spin and heart vibrate, gets under her skin and broils her blood so that she’s ready to throw in the towel and collapse – and she was addicted to it.  Addicted, in the same way why Rory imagines people smoke cigarettes and race cars hundred of miles above the speed limit. Tampering with something so dangerous, that would probably only end up being their own demise, just for that scary, electric feel to shake their bones and light everything, made them feel like a storm was living under their skin. That’s what Paris did, and honestly when she talks to her and they spit fire, Rory isn’t really sure if she wants to put her in her place or kiss her. Possibly both.

 

So Rory knew, that this was like walking up to an enraged bull  while  wearing no armour  and waving a red flag  directly in it’s face . Was she going to stop? Probably not.

 

Not with this  ~~ valentine  ~~ book trying to slip through her nervous, clammy fingers.

 

Because  Paris was fire and regardless of the dangerous heat warning her to stay back, Rory was still reaching out to skim fingertips o ver  the alluring red without thinking of the way her skin will sear alive.

 

She was nearly caught the other day, which, frankly, would’ve been the worst. Sitting atop her bed , she’s stuck between choosing which passage on this particular page to highlight, when her door is abruptly slammed open and Lorelai is leaning in.

 

“Okay so I weighed the pros and cons and I think if we order pizza _now_ –”

 

“Nothing!” Rory splutters, hands flying around to desperately cover the evidence by shoving it under sheets, heart beating through her chest. Lorelai’s brow bunches, eyes switching back and forth.

 

“..Okay, that’s like the answer I wanted but not..” She lets go of the doorknob and wanders over “What’s got you twisted up kid?” 

 

“Nothing! Really, it’s not a big deal, just some homework..”

 

“Hmm..” Lorelai ponders, leaning and sliding down to sit on Rory’s comforter “What could it be that you’re not telling your dear old mom? Fight with a friend? Boy troubles?” 

 

“It could be _nothing_..”

 

“If it’s not that, then you’ve killed a man and you’re wondering where to hide the body.” 

 

“Yes it’s that, now will you stop asking?”

 

“That’s not it, otherwise you’d be asking me to be your accomplice, and I won’t entertain the insult that you wouldn’t. Let me think – what’s been going on lately..”

 

“Don’t strain yourself..” Rory mumbles, arranging and rearranging her highlighters, keeping her heated face down.

 

It becomes too quiet. Her mother is looking at her closely, too close. And that’s when her lips spread wide and cheekily, and Rory’s stomach caves in. 

 

“It wouldn’t happen to be a _valentine_ would it..?” She stretches out the word with glee and then Rory’s face is bursting red, mind racing for a cover-up.

 

“No!” 

 

“Aha! Yes it is!”

 

“N-No, it’s not, how-how would you even..–”

 

“You’ve got red face. You’re all blushy, especially right _there_..”  


“ _Stop_ – look, I’m-I’m pretty sure that’s caused by people _calling out_ red face.” 

 

“Nuh-uh, you were red before that.” Lorelai swings her legs up to sit criss-cross from Rory, elbows on knees and fists under chin “So, who’s the lucky charmer?” 

 

Rory’s mouth is dry, and all she can focus on is her fingers that’re anxiously twisting one another “It-it’s no one, I-I’m not even really sure about it really, the whole thing is kinda..frivolous, don’t you think?”

 

“Oh c’mon. Who doesn’t love getting candy hearts and cheesy lines written on construction paper hearts?” 

 

“Do you think I’m making a kindergarten craft project or something..?” 

 

“Go on.” 

 

“Well I don’t...I don’t even know if this..person, likes me – in fact it may be the opposite...”

 

“You don’t think he likes you? At all?” 

 

“I have...an inkling.” 

 

“Why wouldn’t he? Who could resist this face?” She leans in to pinch her cheek and Rory has to slap her hand away again.

 

“I do believe your biased.” 

 

Rory couldn’t help running through scenarios if her mother knew that it was Paris. The drop of confusion and fast ramblings as she tried to configure how her daughter not only liked a  _girl_ , but the girl who took every chance to stomp all over her. The idea already sets  in  a heavy stone of dread and tightens her chest. She liked being able to tell her mother everything, there wasn’t a person she trusted more, but this is one that could never leave the grave. Not Lane, her mother, or even Paris herself. 

 

Sometimes it’s unbelievable even to herself. Really, Paris was nothing if not downright _unlikable_. But then it would spring up on her randomly. They had debate a couple weeks ago in class, where some sucker was facing off against Paris, and after at home Rory laid down on her bed and thought about it for nearly an hour. She ran over the details of it, how Paris spoke off each point flawlessly, showing how much she’d studied the topic. She cut into every point easily and dominated the conversation, so before the bell could even be wrung to call the end, it was obvious who won. After the near hour of Rory remembering every shut-down of the opponent’s argument and how the corner of Paris’s mouth tugged up when he stumbled for his next card, her stomach was all twisted up low and her hands were clammy. So, with great panic and urgency, she jumped up and threw herself into her homework, finishing assignments that weren’t due till the next week just to keep her head busy. 

 

Eventually, Rory got her mother off her back. She could tell she was a little hurt that Rory didn’t want to share,  feeling the residual guilt that came after. But she did encourage Rory to pursue it, saying whoever it was  _would be downright lucky_ .

 

Rory wasn’t so sure Paris would think so.

 

Regardless, here she was. She stood in font of Paris’s locker with nervous hands and eyes twitching  around the hall . She’d specifically come early to avoid any quest ions or odd looks from other kids.

 

The book wasn’t very large, just thin enough to slip though the grates of the blue-gray metal. So all she had to was push it through and she’d be done. 

 

Why doesn’t she do that?

 

Well, she’s too busy panicking and staring down the locker, nervous hands  fiddling with the book. Imagining all of Paris’s reactions. 

 

Had it not been for the oncoming slaps of someone’s shoes against tile, Rory wasn’t sure it she would've done it. That freaks her out enough to cut off her anxious indecision and start stuffing the novel through the thin gaps of the locker, even nicking her thumb on the metal because it wasn’t sliding in fast enough. And then, promptly flee ing after .

 

Now with the deal sealed, all Rory had to do was wait and try not to run out of the front door. 

 

-

 

By the time lunch was over and the first bell had wrung, the valentine was put on the back burner in her mind.

 

She was headed to Socials, stopped mid-way in the busy hall to search for her textbook. She was sure she had it, but couldn’t remember if she placed it back in her bag after a couple nights ago when her mom had burst into her room, snatched it off her desk, running back out while yelling something like  _spider_ and  _size of a Yorkie terrier puppy._ Rory shuffles and shuffles through binders, stuck in her own head – 

 

That’s when a hand suddenly clamps over her mouth. 

 

She  does yell,  but there’s no time to even think on who’s fingers are over her mouth as she’s yanked back. She stumbles backwards into a broom closet, dark falling around her. She barely registers the movement of another body before the door is slammed closed.  Her chest rises up and down heavily, adrenaline running up through her shaky legs. She didn’t know who or what would’ve wanted to bury her in a janitor’s closet, only raising the idea of whether it was time to panic or not. 

 

The light clicks on a few seconds later, a hand reaching for the dangling string. Rory blinks back, only then finding Paris glaring back at her across the other side am ong the paper towel rolls and disinfectant, arms folded and brown eyes ice.

 

It was  _definitely_ time to panic. 

 

“God..” Rory heaves out, her breath coming all at once “there wasn’t a simpler way to do that?!” 

 

“I needed it to be discreet.” Paris answers, making Rory squint “And don’t be so dramatic, nothing happened to you!” 

 

“Besides feeling like my life just flashed before my eyes..” 

 

“Oh and how very thrilling I’m sure that was, watching yourself on a couch watching sit-com reruns.” 

 

Rory turns to a glare “...What do you want?” 

 

Paris furrows worse, and then slams something into Rory’s chest which she fumbles to catch. When she looks down, she finds the familiar  book  cover staring back at her. And her heart slams to her feet. 

 

She flicks her wide eyes back up. Paris is eyeing her carefully, analytically, with a look Rory can’t really read. There’s some terrible silence following after.

 

“...And what?” Rory finally gets out. She clears her throat probably too loudly. 

 

“..Well what the hell is it?!” Paris growls out, arms tightening. Her defensiveness had grown tenfold in those three seconds, and therefore her anger too. 

 

“..Well it’s a book –”

 

“ _Oh jesus christ_ – duh, Gilmore! I mean what the hell was it doing in my locker?!” 

 

“How should I know?!” Rory deflects back. Was she blushing? God it felt like her cheeks were on fire. 

 

“Don’t play dumb with me – you don’t think I can’t see right through this?!” 

 

Paris snatches the book  to dangle it in her face. Rory grapples for words, causing another horrible silence that only put her at a bigger risk. 

 

“..I-I don’t know what you mean Paris.” 

 

“God you must take me for an idiot.” Paris grits; she pulls open the book and holds up a passage full of streaked highlighter colours “Look, look at this, you see it?! Dare I say, this is a genuinely romantic gift.” 

 

Rory felt her cheeks getting hotter –  _crap_ . 

 

“And do you know what the boys in this school this school think is romantic? Do you?! Because it certainly isn’t this. The usual valentines include candy grams, teddy bears holding hearts that’re the size of _toddlers_ , and the bizarre, macho-misogynistic act of sending an absurd amount of flowers to a girl and making a show so we all know it was him, where, frankly, he might as well have just peed all around her desk!” 

 

“Romantic..” Rory cringes at the imagery. 

 

“Basically, no high school boy is capable of putting this much thought into it. Because this gift is way too _kind_ , too _thoughtful_ – it bleeds like you Gilmore! I don’t know where you thought you could  be anonymous, because frankly you gave _yourself_ away.” 

 

Rory opens her mouth, only to close it a second after. Shit, she was right. Crap. How had she never considered that before she went through with it?! It makes so much sense now. Paris was smart enough to connect those dots with barely any effort. She’d know, it was too obvious to not be completely unaware. And Rory, apparently, was dumb enough to not plan one step ahead. 

 

She blinks back to find Paris glaring at her expectantly, waiting. 

 

“Well, I-I..I um, I..it’s..I just, I-I don’t know what you want me to say then!!” 

 

“Say _why_ Gilmore! What the hell is this?!” 

 

“I..I, it’s, well, I..I..I-I don’t _know_ why alright?!” 

 

“You don’t _know_?!” 

 

“No, I don’t!” Rory threw up her arms, even stomping down her foot. It wasn’t like she was lying; that was honestly the truth. She didn’t know what in god’s name she was doing. Why she thought the idea that so horribly backfired on her was even good to begin with. 

 

“Well that makes two of us then!” Paris screams back, also starting to rage “If you really _don’t know_ , then you’re just as much of a fool as I took you for anyway!” 

 

Oh. 

 

Perfect. 

 

Rory barks out a laugh, a dry smile coming on. She folds her arms and her eyes drop back.

 

“Great, _great_ – you know, I can’t believe I wasted time on this for you anyway!” Rory shakes the book at her “I forgot that you wouldn’t know an act of _niceness_ if it hit you in the face, so..” 

 

“ _Oh_.” Paris’s expression quickly darkens “You think I would even like this  schmaltzy crap?! Poetry, like _really_?! Do you _think_ we live in a Nicholas Sparks novel Gilmore?! Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t give me a paper to check yes or no if I liked you!”

 

Rory grits her teeth, blood beginning to boil “ _God.._ you.. y-you’re such a bitch! Why did I ever think this would work?!” 

 

“Wow, how original! Like I haven’t heard that insult before!” Paris mocked, taking a few menacing steps to her “If you care _that much_ Gilmore, you’re going to have to try a little harder.”

 

“I _don’t care._ ” Rory counters, stepping in too, holding Paris’s fiery gaze like an iron clamp “You’re just an unfeeling jerk!”

 

“ _Really?!_ Well what makes you think I would want something from _you_ , from a pushover like you?!” 

 

“I am not!” 

 

“You are! And a goody-two-shoes!” 

 

Rory grits her teeth. Steps closer. 

 

“Well you’re a know it all!”

 

“Suck-up!” 

 

“Uptight!” 

 

Paris moves closer. “Good-goody!” 

 

“Psycho!” 

 

“Brown-noser!” 

 

Rory moves closer “Nuisance!” 

 

“Annoying!” 

 

“Frigid!” 

 

Paris moves closer “Never knows when to  _back down_ .” 

 

“Never knows when to back _off_!” 

 

Rory watched Paris clench her jaw. She felt like her whole self was roaring. She stared Paris right down, noting the red flames behind the deep brown  iris’s , and feeling it swirl between them, lighting along her skin to push her further and further so their faces  had just a few inches between them. 

 

“Passive!” 

 

“Bully!” 

 

“Placid!” 

 

“Rude!” 

 

“Obnoxious!” 

 

“Heartless!” 

 

“Bleeding heart!” 

 

“ _I hate you!_ ” 

 

“ _I hate_ _ **you**_ _!”_

 

Rory snatches Paris’s collar, yanks her forward and crashes their lips together. 

 

And immediately tastes fire. 

 

Paris stiffens for about three seconds, and Rory could almost freak out again because she realized she broke her reserve and  _ oh god she tried to kiss her _ but then in a blink Paris is kissing her back. She grasps Rory’s shirt, twisting it in her fingers to hold onto her and really  _ kiss her _ like she’d been thinking just as much as Rory had about what this moment would feel like.

 

It could nearly be funny in it’s juxtaposition. Paris’s lips were soft, tentative, almost  _ scared _ Rory thought. It wasn’t like kissing any boy, or probably any person, really, because Paris was all her own. All the same, Rory felt fire being breathed into her, all the magnitude that was the powerhouse blonde. Scalding her skin, burning down her throat and warmth spreading, causing the shiver up her spine and the gasp slipped out. There was something addictive in that, something wonderful Rory wanted more of even as it set her alight from the inside. 

 

A match, suddenly ignited, sparks erupting into a flame that burned bright and  _ beautifully _ .

 

But in those shaking seconds, Paris pulls away, a trembling breath falling out. Rory’s trying to remember how to breathe too, how to swallow the flames. Now it was dead quiet in the tiny closet that smelled like fake lemon scent, the two teens with red cheeks averting their eyes and scrambling to catch up. Rory’s mind is racing and all the thoughts are blu r ring at once – did she really do that? Did she really kiss a girl? Did she really kiss  _ Paris _ ? – and desperate to put  _ any _ sentence together to speak.

 

“..I don’t hate it.” 

 

Paris breaks first. She’s cautiously looking up at the brunette through her lashes – walls not completely gone, but..lowered.

 

Rory only blinks back, still feeling like a piece her brain was m elted  into mush “..What?” 

 

“The book.” Paris answers, lifting her head fully to actually have their eyes meet “I..don’t hate it. It’s actually..nice – I mean, if you compare it to giant teddy bears...” 

 

It’s messy, but it’s her attempt at being honest, Rory can see that. So, maybe, that’s why she starts smiling herself. She actually liked it..?

 

“Are you telling me you liked it..?” 

 

“ _Maybe_.” Paris snipped, tightening her folded arms “It’s just that..this almost _obnoxious_ adorableness is proving to be a great hindrance on my life so if you could just stop being so cute and doing stuff like _this_ I might be able to breathe for a minute!” 

 

A second, and then brown eyes went wide, red crawling up her neck. Rory bit down on her lip, hiding her laugh. 

 

“I-I-I..” 

 

“Paris, it’s okay. I..I think you’re cute – I mean, like you, too...” 

 

“Well duh – I have this book remember?! Otherwise it wouldv’e been an awful trick.” 

 

Rory sighs, unable to keep from rolling her eyes “Right..” 

 

“Even though you make me unbelievably _mad_.” 

 

“Yeah, you drive me crazy too!” 

 

Paris doesn’t say anything  to Rory’s surprise . Instead, she starts to see just the smallest, but brightest, smile pull across her lips. And then, altogether, Rory starts smiling too. It was hard to help; that was just a really good look on Paris, and it made her  all the more happy to see  it. She quickly shook it off however, pulling her gaze from Rory’s. 

 

“Okay, well, um...” She pulled her gaze away, shyly shuffling and pretending to be more interested in her nails then the girl in front of her “Do you..um..m-maybe you want to, uh.. _god_ , thought..thought we could... _you know_ , go... _possibly,_ on, um.. ” 

 

Rory had never seen her so nervous. It was unfairly adorable. It made her cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. Though, no matter how sweet, it would just be cruel to let Paris keep  floundering without a lifeline. 

 

“.. _christ_ , I just, just wanted to..–”

 

Rory leans in and snatches her wrist. Paris flicks her eyes up and they crash into Rory’s, open and nervous. Rory blushes, feeling her fingers start to slide down against Paris’s palm. 

 

“I..I like movies.” She finally gets out, noticing how Paris clicks to attention “There’s that old, vintage theater in Hartford..across from the library you know..? Right, well, they..they have five dollar movies on Saturday afternoons. They like to play a lot of the old 80’s, cult classics. Plus, they um, they put Smarties in your popcorn, so it’s a really good bang for your buck..” 

 

It seems to take forever for Paris to answer. Rory can practically hear the frantic calculations in her head, all the fast working cogs. 

 

“..I haven’t seen most, if not any, of those...” 

 

“Really?” Rory quirks her head “I-I mean, great. Perfect.” 

 

They stare at one for the longest time, quiet breathing the only noise in the small room. Rory didn’t know what to do next. Does she kiss her again? Do they need to write it down? Oh –

 

“Oh!” Rory rushes, clumsily reaching for her bag “You um, you probably need –”

 

“It’s-it’s okay, I uh, still have your number...from the project..” 

 

“Oh, sure, cool.”

 

“Cool.” 

 

“So, um..they, usually start around one, so..then..?” 

 

“One o’clock? Y-yeah, sure.” 

 

“Great!” 

 

“Saturday?” 

 

“Saturday.”

 

And just like that, it was a date. Weird. Hadn’t they just been screaming at each other? 

 

They’re staring at one another. No one knows what the hell to do. Well, staring, and then hastily  glancing somewhere else while blushing all over. 

 

“So..” Rory drawled, lifting up and down on her toes “I’ll see you there..?”

 

“Yeah. You’ll see me there. Or I’ll..see you..or something..” 

 

Paris droned off, squinting. Rory held back her giggle, knowing it probably wouldn’t help. 

 

“Next Saturday.” 

 

“Next Saturday.” 

 

“Great. Okay.” 

 

“Okay.” 

 

The bell was going to ring soon. They had to get going, and already, so much had happened in under t en minutes. 

 

“The bells about to go.” Rory repeated aloud. 

 

“Yeah, I know.” 

 

“Oh..” 

 

“So why aren’t you going?!”

 

Rory squinted “..Why do I have to go?”

 

“Well you brought it up!”

 

“You dragged me in here!”

 

“You’re closest to the door!”

 

“Why –” Rory sighed, dragging her hands over her face “..Why are we even fighting?” 

 

Paris’s brow furrowed. She shifted her weight back and forth, thinking hard “..I don’t know. I guess it’s our thing.” 

 

Rory couldn’t help but scoff, smiling dryly. She guessed it was. She hoped they could have a different thing though. Maybe on Saturday.

 

“Well,” She took a few steps back, hand clasping the doorknob and flashed Paris a smile “..I guess it’s a good thing we like each other..” 

 

Paris furrowed deeper, looking only more befuddled. Eventually she scoffed, shaking her head quietly to herself. She was trying to hide a smile. Rory could just tell. She bit into her own.

 

“..Bye Paris.”

 

She turned the handle, pushing it open only slightly to give Paris privacy if she didn’t want to be seen, and then rushed out, leaving Paris behind to grin like a maniac when she was sure Rory was gone. 

 

Rory hurried down the hall, head down, attempting to leave the janitor’s closet and the valentines and the kiss behind her. And the Saturday date, which was for  _ Saturday _ . Still, she wondered if that lavender long-sleeve shirt and gray s kirt would make for a good outfit. Or  stalling on  Paris’s bizarre wording,  _ obnoxiously adorable,  _ which made her grin. God she was so weird. But a good weird. 

 

Was this a really bad idea? Possibly. Was it a really good one? It might be too. 

 

Rory just grins more, pressing lips together, trying to conceal herself from wandering classmates nearby.

 

She did know, though, that she liked the burn marks along her lips and warmth of the roaring flames still flickering there.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed that! To either your joy or horror, I have a bunch more for these two that I will be posting in the coming future.


End file.
